


The Unexpected Exchange

by testosterone_tea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual John, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Demisexual Sherlock, Exhibitionism, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Secret Santa, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/pseuds/testosterone_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock is made to participate in the Yard's Secret Santa exchange, he knew it would be a disaster. But even he didn't expect how much of a disaster it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> This is an exchangelock pinch hit for [loveanddeathandartandtaxes](http://loveanddeathandartandtaxes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hope that it wasn't too explicit for your tastes. -.-

Sherlock Holmes looked down at the bright purple vibrator in his hands and thought to himself, yes, he had known this was a terrible idea, had warned people, but they had failed to heed him. He hadn't realized the extent to which it had been a terrible idea, but he shot John an "I told you so" look anyway, out of principle.

He had said, after all, that he didn't want to participate.

John had made him.

Well, sort of. John could make him to almost anything without even realizing that he held that type of power in his hands. Of course, Sherlock hadn't wanted to be part of the Yard's Secret Santa exchange. He wasn't _actually_ part of Lestrade's division, and felt he didn't need to buy anyone a present, let alone some imbecile at the Yard.

With luck, he'd received Lestrade as his giftee.

He'd given Lestrade a card. Lestrade had looked disgruntled as he'd opened it until he'd seen what was written inside. A date and time, plus a location and instructions to buy his daughter a kitten for Christmas.

Lestrade had known it was him right away.

"Just do it," Sherlock had said, and while Lestrade had looked dubious, he'd promised to follow through.

The location was an animal shelter, and the date and time was during Molly's volunteer shift. Now maybe she would stop doing that thing with her eyes whenever he came into her lab and settle down with someone suitable. Like Lestrade, who actually liked her, and had been unsuccessfully trying to devise a way to bump into her casually outside the job.

He hadn't even given thought to what someone else might give him, thinking that the disaster would come from his end. He should have refused. Surely John's disappointment wasn't worse than having everyone stare at him while he held a sex toy in his hands? How had they known that this was one of the only things that would make him uncomfortable, anyway?

He saw Sally in the back, snickering with Anderson.

And understood.

Maybe he had made one too many blowjob references at crime scenes. This was her petty revenge, although she likely had no idea exactly how mortified he was, holding this blasted thing up. Royal purple. What an absurd colour.

"Now you might actually get some," she said when she noticed him looking at her.

"Not the gift I was expecting," Sherlock said and smiled like he was chewing on gravel. "Rather an expensive present to get one over on me, wasn't it?"

He put it gingerly back in the bag it had come in and drew up his mental map of where the nearest trash recepticle was in order to dispose of it. It would serve Sally right if she wanted to spend thirty quid on some stupid thing just to make fun of him.

"Do you even know how to use it?" Sally asked, grinning.

"O-of course I know..." Sherlock snapped, feeling his face heat up.

"Bet you don't," Sally said with a smirk.

"I can definitely use it," Sherlock argued.

"Bet you won't," Sally said. "Bet you're too embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," Sherlock denied, trying to will away the flush that gave him away. "And I do know how to use the thing, ridiculous as it is."

"You won't use it," Sally said knowingly.

Sherlock had been about to yell, "I will!" at her, when he realized that would be tantamount to admitting that he was going to go home and sexually pleasure himself just to prove Sally wrong. Which would be doing exactly what she wanted, which was to humiliate himself in front of the rest of the police. He settled for glowering and sweeping out of the room.

He told himself he would throw the damned bag out at the nearest opportunity.

As he passed the garbage can on the way out, he thought to himself that he would definitely throw it in the next one. And the next one. And then, he was out of the building and hailing a cab with the stupid bag still clutched in his hand. He had been so preoccupied with the matter that John startled him as he popped up at his side.

"You're keeping it."

"It was thirty quid," Sherlock pointed out.

"Fair enough," John said, and nothing more was said about the thing for the time being.

OOooOO

The damn thing sat on his nightstand for three nights in a row before Sherlock finally broke down and looked up how to use a vibrator on John's computer. Sally might have been trying to goad him, that much was obvious, but it was also obvious that she'd thought she'd won. She'd been betting that he wouldn't use it out of humiliation.

So, if he wanted to win, he had to use it. Even if "winning" only happened in his own head.

According to his internet research, what he was holding was a g-spot stimulator-type vibrator. He looked at the curved end and then decided that he might as well ask a medical expert.

"John?" he asked, standing behind John as he made his tea. "You know about prostate exams. In your medical opinion, would this vibrator be an effective prostate massager?"

John choked on his first sip of tea, and Sherlock watched in concern as John sputtered and took in deep, gasping breaths. When John recovered, Sherlock held the vibrator up for him to look at. 

John wiped his mouth and said, "Sherlock, you can't just ask people that."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, frowning. "It's a perfectly reasonable question considering the claim on the package."

"You don't ask your friends about sex toys, Sherlock," John said. "It's just not done."

"I just want to know..."

"Not listening!" John said loudly as he went to settle down in front of the telly.

So much for that idea. He would just have to verify the claims himself then.

OOooOO 

Sherlock reviewed his instructions for successfully using a vibrator and looked at his supplies arranged on his bed in front of him. He'd laid down a towel, as he hadn't wanted to get lube on his sheets. He'd bought a box of condoms, silicone-based lubricant, and double-A batteries. The vibrator itself was lying on the bed unpackaged.

Sherlock inserted the batteries, opened a condom, and rolled it up the length of the vibrator. He slid out of his pyjama bottoms and pants and looked down at his uninterested cock lying flat against the crease of his leg. Nothing for it, he would just have to do his best to get on with it without being aroused.

Although arousal was the point.

With some trepidation, he switched the button on the vibrator, and it began buzzing in his hand. Feeling a bit ridiculous, he lowered the thing between his legs to press it against the base of his cock. He'd just meant it to be a bit of a warm up to the real thing, he wasn't expecting the jolt that shot through him at the vibrations.

His cock stirred, already beginning to fill at the slight stimulation he'd given it. Now curious, Sherlock did it again and gasped at the little tings of pleasure that the vibrations started in his abdomen. He rolled his hips up while pressing the vibe against the base of his cock and then groaned low down in his throat as his cock hardened, drawing taut against his stomach.

Interesting reaction. 

He reached further down and nudged up behind his balls, touching the vibe to his perineum. In spite of already expecting it, he couldn't stifle the groan that tore from his throat. And that was his prostate. From the outside. He rolled the curved head of the vibe against his perineum again and his hips jerked up in pleasure.

Well. That was better than he was expecting.

He switched the vibrator off, then reached for the lube. As tempted as he was to just finish himself off now that he was this aroused, he had said he knew how to use it properly.

He almost felt over-sensitive as he circled the pucker of his entrance with lube-cooled fingertips. He shivered with a combination of arousal and fear – what would that pleasure be like from the inside? Would it be too much, too overwhelming?

His questing fingers had dulled the sensation somewhat, and he felt an ache as he managed to slide one finger past the tight ring of muscle. It wasn't as if he'd done this recently, and he'd never felt that type of direct, intense pleasure. He hadn't so much as wanked since before he'd been at university.

Oh. He'd forgotten how sensitive he was. He slid his finger in up to the knuckle, then pulled it back slowly, savouring the feeling. The ache grew, and he pushed in another finger beside the first. Breathing hard through his mouth, he crooked his fingers and felt a faint twinge. There, just a bit further in.

He got in three fingers, but from his angle, couldn't get his fingers in far enough to nudge his prostate. Having someone else to do this was much better. Or...

Taking his fingers out, he reached for the vibrator. It wasn't so thick that he was worried about not being able to take it. He lubed the outside of the condom and slid it home with another groan. The stretch felt nice, the ache returned. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed being fucked in trying to forget other less pleasant memories.

Viscerally reminded, he slid the toy in and out of his hole a few times before tensing. This was going to be an entirely different experience. He'd felt it just from nudging skin that was normally not so sensitive, but the toy had had him pinned to the bed with pleasure.

He took a deep breath and pushed the button. The vibrations hit him like a punch to the gut, and he nearly shot straight off the bed. He cried out, hips shuddering up helplessly. _Christ_.

He eased the vibe back out, but the fierce want inside him made him push it back in again. His thighs were already trembling, and every muscle in his back was tense, his head thrown back. He moaned helplessly, the sounds torn out of him. He mindlessly fucked himself on the vibrator, chasing an orgasm that would likely be so intense it would wipe all thoughts from his head.

"Ah! Agh, Christ, _John_!"

He nearly clapped a hand over his mouth, but then vaguely remembered that John was out for the day. Some boring lunch date with a receptionist or something. And Mrs. Hudson was next door at Speedy's, and would be until it closed. He could be as loud as he liked.

" _Fuck_ ," he groaned, just for the pleasure of the sharp 'k' sound at the end.

His climax rushed upon him suddenly, and he screamed, throat feeling raw from the noises he hadn't meant to make. He switched off the vibrator and pulled it out slowly, shivering. He lay it on the towel next to him and simply laid there, panting.

The sweat began to cool, and he finally managed to get up, although his legs threatened to buckle. Sherlock disposed of the condom and hid the lube and vibrator in his bedside table. He should have a shower, and maybe he'd look somewhat put together when John got back.

He threw on a robe and grabbed a fresh towel, stepping out of his room and feeling much better.

Until he realized that John was sitting in his chair with a cup of tea and a newspaper. He looked up at Sherlock's entrance into the hall, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of him.

Sherlock was suddenly aware of everything that John could see – and what he couldn't. His hair was sweat-soaked and stuck to his forehead, his face was flushed, his eyes still a bit glassy from orgasm. His hole underneath the robe was still stretched and lube-smeared. He was even walking slightly off-kilter.

All-in-all, Sherlock looked exactly like he'd been having a thorough solo session in his room, and even John was bound to realize.

John's ears reddened, and he pointedly went back to reading his newspaper.

Sherlock walked to the bathroom and locked himself in, heart pounding. Because he might still be a bit high on hormones and neurochemicals, but he could still deduce some things.

John's tea took 4 minutes and forty-five seconds to make, including boiling the water. John always came home, took off his coat and shoes, and then rooted through the mess on the table for a paper before going to make his tea. John's tea had been partially drunk, which meant he had waited for it to cool another 5 minutes and savoured it for at least two. Unless – he came home, heard Sherlock, and then gulped it down still too hot.

Either way, it seemed very much as if John had heard him.

When he came out of the bathroom, John was watching telly. As soon as Sherlock entered the room, John tensed up. Sherlock, who had been about to sit next to John on the sofa, instead carefully took his own seat, perching himself on the back.

"John," he said, without preamble. "I think you might have heard something earlier that you weren't supposed to."

"I didn't hear anything!" John said. "Did something happen? I'm sure it wasn't important."

"John," Sherlock said warningly. "I can tell when you're lying."

"We don't need to talk about it," John replied sharply.

"I think we do," Sherlock said.

"We really don't," John said uncomfortably. "You know what? Let's do this: you stay here and think about whatever you like, and I'll go round to the pub. Yeah?"

Before Sherlock could say a thing, John got up, grabbed his keys and wallet, and left. Sherlock checked the clock on the wall. It was only 4:38 pm on a Tuesday. The pub was going to be dreadfully empty. But that wasn't the point, John was going there to avoid the conversation, which meant one of two things: John was extremely uncomfortable about knowing about Sherlock's masturbatory habits, or he had heard Sherlock say his name. Sherlock wasn't sure how many times he had said it or how loudly, but it rather appeared that John had heard him.

_John, this is completely unnecessary. SH_

_I know you heard me. SH_

_This doesn't have to change anything. SH_

_Should I not be here when you get back? It can be arranged. SH_

_John, just answer me. SH_

_Please_. Sherlock hovered his thumb over the 'Send' button, not quite sure if he wanted to begin pleading just yet. However, one couldn't be too contrite when their flatmate was being unreasonable.

The minutes ticked by. Sherlock couldn't concentrate on anything but wondering how much John was drinking, and if he hated Sherlock now. In the very least, he'd put a strain on their friendship.

He went to his room and took out the bloody vibrator. Such a ridiculous thing to cause such a rift. John hadn't even waited to hear an explanation. Sherlock could lie. John was a fairly common name, after all.

An internet search revealed no less than 25 different celebrity Johns that Sherlock could claim he was thinking of instead of his own John.

John didn't come back until late, and he wasn't alone.

He stumbled up the stairs, another set of high-heel wearing feet following him up. There was high-pitched giggling, and the awkward sound of a couple vigorously making out on the landing. Sherlock didn't bother to go and look.

The creaking of bedsprings was loud enough that Sherlock fled the flat himself. John hadn't bothered to bring home a woman in months, and this one slip-up of Sherlock's had caused all this.

Curse Sally Donovan. Her present might not have worked exactly like she'd planned, but it was certainly causing him more than enough trouble!

Well. If that's how John wanted to play it, Sherlock was by far the more devious of the two.

And he still had a vibrator.

As he walked the silent, dark streets of London, Sherlock came up with a plan.

OOooOO

Sherlock waited in his classic thinking pose, not moving. Everything was in position, he just had to wait for it.

John walked sleepily into the living room and stopped dead. Sherlock fought back a smile, lying as still as possible.

"Where did all this come from?"

'All this' was half the nearby 24 hour sex store worth of sex paraphernalia. It was a true gallimaufry of debauchery.

There was a huge rainbow flag across the window, its stripes painting the wall of the kitchen as morning sunlight streamed through it. Sherlock had managed to assemble a sex swing in the living room. He has a collection of brightly coloured dildos arranged on the back of the stove, and there was a leather flogger hanging off the cupboard door. There were posters of male strippers all over the walls.

Sherlock himself had fit his body into some sort of outfit, the sort of which one wouldn't find amiss gracing Irene Adler's form. It was a bit hot and annoying, actually. Leather wasn't all that breathable, after all.

"Sherlock..." John said warningly.

Sherlock ignored him.

"Sherlock, what is going on."

"Oh, nothing, John," Sherlock said, raising one hand and waving it airily. "I have decided to embrace my gay identity and come out in spectacular fashion. I thought you said it was 'fine' when we first met? Unless you weren't being completely honest with me?"

John surveyed the room again and sighed. "This is revenge for last night, isn't it?"

"Now John," Sherlock said, with a saccharine smile. "Saying I was getting revenge implies that I was _upset about something_. Now what could you have _possibly_ done to warrant that?"

John sighed again. "You know, not all LGBT people are also into BDMS."

"Lucky me, two in one," Sherlock replied. "Very convenient."

"I'm going to work. When I come back, if this is all still here..."

"You'll what, John? _Punish me_?"

John left rather quickly after that.

Sherlock immediately went to get rid of the leather outfit. It was rather annoying to wear, and it made him look ridiculous.

Sherlock actually had no idea if he was into BDMS, but the look on John's face had been worth it. He'd think of something to do with the flogger later, for now it was fine where it was. And John hadn't even noticed that there was a penis pump in the bathroom. How he'd missed it was beyond Sherlock, as it was right in the bathtub. Maybe John just hadn't registered what it was.

This meant war.

OOooOO

Sherlock timed the hum of the vibrations to start soon after John got home from work. He'd already gotten himself aroused, although to be honest, it hadn't been difficult when he knew he was planning for John to hear him this time.

While John had been at work, he'd very pointedly gone and found the largest John Barrowman poster he could find and put it up on the wall. Mrs. Hudson had liked it. He had sent her out to the shops, because she didn't need to know about this little battle of theirs.

He heard the door open this time, and waited. Ten minutes seemed like long enough.

He didn't even have to pretend to moan. The vibrations send shocks of pleasure up and down his spine, and his vocal chords worked of their own accord. Which was fine by him. He'd never realized he could be this loud before.

He came spectacularly, and done the exact same thing, leaving his room to go to the shower.

John was sitting stiffly in his chair when he came out, newspaper crumpled around the edges. He looked up as Sherlock came out, and their eyes met from across the room. Sherlock felt a lump in his throat. John's eyes burned, and Sherlock wasn't sure with what. His best guess was anger, but it was more than that.

He felt a little throb from his spent cock and fled.

OOooOO

John brought another woman home that night.

And so it continued, until the end of the next week. The sex stuff remained spread out all over the place, but Sherlock didn't care that much about it anymore, and it seemed that John had adjusted to its presence.

Sherlock was getting a little tired of this. He'd been trying to get John to regret not talking to him about this when he got the chance, but Sherlock was beginning to think _he_ had more regret about that missed conversation than John. He should just give this up.

Not that he was giving up the vibrator, but he wouldn't try and torment John with it any longer.

Come to think of it, why did John keep coming home at the exact same time when he knew Sherlock would be waiting to ambush him with loud sex noises? It didn't make sense. Also, where did he keep getting women to sleep with? Back when John had gone out on a regular basis, he'd only managed to pull 1 in 5 women he attempted to hook up with. Not that it was a bad ratio, but it didn't account for him finding one for every single night of the week. Something was going on.

The next time he heard John coming up the stairs with someone, he ran and burst out the door.

And nearly knocked Sarah Sawyer down the stairs.

"What?" Sherlock said, blinking.

"Sherlock!" John said, having caught Sarah before she fell.

"It's been you every night?" Sherlock addressed Sarah.

Sarah looked back and forth between them.

"I think you two should probably talk," she said nervously.

"That's what I said at the very beginning!" Sherlock snapped, glaring at John.

"Sherlock..." John said.

"John!" Sarah protested.

Sarah shook her head in exasperation and went down the stairs. As she was going, he heard Mrs. Hudson come out to investigate and begin talking to her.

John looked very grumpy, probably because Sherlock had interrupted whatever it was he'd been doing with Sarah. Because as he recalled, they had not only broken up, but had resolved between them to remain friends and collegues without going down the road to a relationship again.

"Well," Sherlock said angrily. "This is just brilliant."

"You started it," John said.

"I didn't!" 

"You purposefully let me overhear you using that blasted vibrator!"

"It wasn't on purpose!"

John stopped. "It wasn't?" he asked hesitantly.

"No!" Sherlock snapped. "Although the other times were."

"Ah," John said, looking sheepish. "I didn't actually have sex with Sarah. We just bounced on my bed and then watched a movie on my laptop afterward. I owe her a week worth of extra shifts for this, you know."

"You didn't?" Sherlock asked, a bit more desperately than he wanted to sound.

"Wait a minute, if you weren't doing it on purpose, then it wasn't some sort of experiment to see how I would react?"

"No..." Sherlock said slowly.

"So you actually..."

John frowned and glanced at the poster on the wall. "Fancy John Barrowman?"

"Please John, I don't even know who that is," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "I also have posters of John Cho, John Travolta, and John Wayne in my closet."

"You... fancy me."

"Obviously!" Sherlock huffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh," John said, and his expression brightened considerably. "So you weren't testing me to see if I was attracted to you by making sex noises and shouting my name."

"Um..."

"Wait... were you actually... actually..." John's face started to turn red.

"Using it? Yes," Sherlock replied. "Very successfully, in spite of what Donovan said about my abilities in that department." He frowned. "I thought you realized that."

"N-not as such," John stuttered. "That's very..."

"Unsettling?"

"Hot," John finished.

"Oh." It was Sherlock's turn to blush. "Um. You... er... enjoyed that then."

"So that's what you actually sound like when..."

"Yes."

John's eyes darkened as his pupils visibly dilated, blossoming out at this admission.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I test that, will you?" John said, moving toward him.

"I – " Sherlock said as John crowded him against the door jamb.

John kissed his throat, and Sherlock shuddered under the sudden assault on his senses.

"Wait – John, what are you doing?" Sherlock's fingers found John's shoulders and hung on.

"It's fairly simple, Sherlock," John said patiently, lips still brushing his collarbone. "I thought you had figured out that I was attracted to you and had decided to test your hypothesis. I was angry that you were using my attraction as an experiment, but it turns out you actually _are_ attracted to me. So now, I'm rectifying the situation."

"We're still in the stairwell, and Mrs. Hudson is in her apartment," Sherlock said quickly. "I'm sure you've noticed, but I can be a bit... loud."

"Yes, I did notice that," John said, and bit down lightly on the junction of Sherlock's shoulder and neck.

Sherlock's knees buckled slightly, and he clung to John's shoulders to keep himself from simply melting to the floor like a fainting damsel.

"We... should probably talk about this," Sherlock said.

"I'm attracted to you, you're attracted to me, what's the big deal?" John asked, licking a stripe up the length of his throat.

"Um... um, I..." Sherlock couldn't remember.

John's mouth sucking a love bite into the skin just above his collarbone kept sending his thought process spiralling out of control, and Sherlock didn't entirely mind. John's fingers went to his collar and started unbuttoning his shirt. He began to maneuver Sherlock backwards until they were inside enough that John could close the door.

"Gorgeous," John growled, untucking his shirt and steering him back towards Sherlock's open bedroom door.

"I'm demisexual!" Sherlock burst out, and then stopped in sudden fear.

John stopped too, although he didn't move away.

"What does that mean, exactly?" John asked cautiously.

"I..." Sherlock paused, uncertain. He knew this about himself, and only went to bed with an actual person very seldomly. Next to never. "I only feel sexual attraction to people I have a strong emotional attachment to," he finally whispered, looking down at the floor.

This was it. This was when John stepped away and told Sherlock it was only about sex, and that Sherlock wasn't the right person for him to be in a relationship with. That he didn't feel the same. That Sherlock had better find a different flatmate, because John wasn't comfortable sharing a flat with someone that had romantic feelings for him.

He couldn't help but clutch his hands tighter on John's shoulders anyway.

"You want to date me," John said gently, thumb stroking his collarbone.

"Yes," Sherlock confirmed. "Although my track record is hardly the best."

John giggled a little. "Yours is bad? You should see mine."

Sherlock knew. A new girlfriend every few weeks, never settled down, never felt the urge to stay, never thought to himself 'this is the one,' and it would probably be the same with him. But at least he could say that he tried.

"I want to try," Sherlock heard himself say, in a small voice.

John leaned up and pressed the gentlest of kisses against his lips. "I'm glad," he whispered there, secretly. "Sherlock, I already know what you're like. I've spent years living with you, learning everything about you, knowing you more every second of it. I know you. And I've adored that man since he walked into the lab at Bart's and asked me the question 'Afghanistan or Iraq?'"

Sherlock felt a lump settle in his throat and couldn't speak. His lip trembled minutely, and John kissed him again.

"Let's try this again," John said. "Let me take you to bed?"

Sherlock managed a nod, and John drew him slowly into the room and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. He undressed them both, and Sherlock watched with wide eyes, heart pounding loudly enough to fill his ears.

"Come on," John urged him, and got him spread out across his own duvet.

He kissed John, and John answered, pulling Sherlock against his own body so that they were close enough that Sherlock could feel John's heartbeat echoing around his own ribcage.

"J-john..." Sherlock said, but the amount of things he wanted to say stayed dammed up behind his lips.

"Shh, it's okay," John said, and his roaming touch derailed Sherlock's thoughts again.

It was slow, and Sherlock's mind and movements seemed like they were moving through molasses. He could hardly keep up with what John was doing, and it was almost as if John's mouth was all over him, all at once. It wasn't until he had John kneeling between his thighs that he realized that time had passed and that John had stopped moving and touching him.

"John?" he asked fuzzily.

He hadn't done much touching himself, completely at John's mercy. He didn't mind, he just wished that he could give a tenth of that attention to John himself.

"You know, I found something here, in your drawer," John said, with a grin. "I didn't think you'd keep it in the same place that so many others have before you."

He held up the purple vibrator.

Sherlock blushed, the heat stealing over his cheeks.

"Oh," he said. "Um..."

"I haven't tried this with a man before," John mused, and switched it on.

Sherlock whimpered before the thing even touched him, but John urged his thighs apart and ran the tip of the vibe up the soft, sensitive insides of his thighs. He could feel the vibrations starting somewhere deep in his abdomen, pulsing gently in time with his heartbeat. His cock was already starting to drip precome across his stomach, dotting his skin with each twitch.

"John, I –" Sherlock groaned, hands clutching at the pillow underneath his head.

"I'm going to make you so desperate, you'll beg for it," John said, very matter-of-factly.

Sherlock believed him.

John began by teasing the area around the base of his cock, before skimming a line up the underside. Sherlock shuddered helplessly, writhing on the bed. Whenever he thought he would tip over the edge, John would draw back, leaving Sherlock aching with an empty feeling.

John pushed Sherlock's left leg over his good shoulder, spreading him open. Sherlock felt his face heat at how exposed he was in this position. John nudged the vibe up underneath his testicles and Sherlock groaned deep in his throat. 

"Christ, John," he gasped, knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists tighter in the fabric next to his ears.

John touched the tip of the vibe to his hole, and he felt himself clench up automatically.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to put this in you without lube," John said, smoothing a hand down his leg.

"It's not that, it just feels..." Sherlock said softly, insides all clenched up with wanting it inside him.

John teased his perineum with the vibe until Sherlock's hair was soaked with sweat, and he was grinding down helplessly against it.

"John, please just let me..." Sherlock groaned, trembling with pleasure and the desire to come.

John finally wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock, and pumped it once, twice, and Sherlock ground down against the vibrator once more before his climax hit him. Sherlock's head fell back, and he whimpered as he felt hot streams of come slick his belly.

"Gorgeous," John said.

Sherlock collapsed on the bed. He wanted to get up and return the favour, but he couldn't move. His limbs all felt weak, as if he'd run a marathon. 

John turned him on his side, then sidled up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Press your thighs together," whispered John in his ear.

Sherlock did, and a moment later he felt John's cock nudge up between his legs. Sherlock bent himself forward a little to give John better access, and John groaned at the change in pressure.

"That's it," he hissed in Sherlock's ear.

It didn't take long for John to come, painting the insides of Sherlock's thighs with his ejaculate. Sherlock didn't mind, even when it cooled and became tacky. It was like having John all over him, marking him.

"Not the present I was expecting," Sherlock whispered.

John smiled against the back of his neck and pressed a kiss to his hairline.

"Night love," he said softly.

Sherlock murmured in agreement, and did so.

OOooOO

"I can't believe we have to work on Christmas day," Sally complained, staring down at the corpse of a mall Santa that had been shoved in the nearest rubbish tip behind the store.

"Murderers don't take holidays, apparently," Lestrade said, shaking his head. "At least I don't have plans until later."

"You're seeing Molly," Sherlock said knowingly.

Lestrade shot him a narrow-eyed look, but nodded. "How about you, Sherlock, are you and John doing anything?"

"Mrs. Hudson is making a Christmas turkey," John said. "We even decorated the flat."

"Getting into the Christmas spirit, are we, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock hummed. It had been a surprisingly not-boring holiday as far as he was concerned.

"What's put you in such a good mood, anyway?" Sally said. "You haven't snapped at me once today. Not that we don't have plently of time yet for that, but usually it's the first thing you do."

"Oh, you've been strangely useful the past couple of weeks," Sherlock said. "I don't expect it to last."

"Useful?" Sally said, shooting him an odd glance. "I haven't done anything differently than I usually do." She frowned, and then a dawning understanding entered her expression. "Unless... you found my Secret Santa gift more useful than I thought you would. You know, I never did find it in any of the trash bins, and I just thought I'd missed it being taken out."

Sherlock just smirked, and didn't say a thing. Just took John's hand in his briefly, before kneeling down to examine the corpse in front of him. A Merry Christmas indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://tumblr.testosterone-tea.com/)


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